Sunday, November 27, 2016

If Elizabeth and Lota had been busy in the final weeks of
their stay in the US, they
were even busier once they returned to Brazil. Bishop’s next extant letter
to Grace is dated 11 December 1957. If others were written and sent, they no
longer survive. Undoubtedly, Bishop did let Grace know when they were safely
back in Brazil,
but perhaps it was just a postcard, which vanished into time’s vast vaults.
These vaults hold many lost and forgotten communications. Even so, it might
have taken Bishop that long to settle down enough to write, the prompt of
approaching Christmas bringing her to the letter she perhaps had wanted to
write all along.

Another issue in the delay was Brazilian bureaucracy. After
expressing her hope that her missive would reach Grace “in time for your
Christmas,” in spite of the “slow mails” at “this time of year,” Bishop
informed her aunt that her delay was partly because she was “waiting for my
Christmas cards that I bought in New
York to show up!” But they, along with much else,
were “still in the customs … and now they’ll have to wait until next
Christmas.”

Since returning, Elizabeth and Lota had been trying to free
their many boxes and barrels from Brazilian customs. Bishop noted, “Poor Lota
has been to Rio three times now and still half
our stuff is there.” They both had to make another trek “next week” to keep at
the bureaucrats, who had, “at one point … lost all our papers — including both
our passports!” Bishop’s word for this slog was “maddening.”

After being away for months, Lota’s family had its own
demands. Bishop wrote that the “two oldest ‘grandchildren’” were visiting. Old
being a relative term: “aged 3 and 4½.” Their mother had just had her fourth
child, another girl, so the older siblings needed tending. The newborn was
named after Lota, “‘Maria Carlota’and
nicknamed ‘Lotinha’, or ‘Little Lota’.” If these toddlers weren’t enough, “the
cook’s new baby is here, too … three months [old].” As well as Betty (Bishop’s
namesake), who would be three in February. Bishop acknowledged the “big
responsibility” these little ones brought to Lota. Musing on the nursery that
surrounded her, Bishop wrote, “You’d think that two old maids could avoid all
this fuss about little shoes, cod liver oil, bowel movements, haircuts, etc. —
but apparently not!”

The straw on the camel’s back of all this activity was the
“horrible weather since we’ve been back.” So bad was it that Bishop could count
the sunny days on one hand: “exactly three sunny days so far.” The “pouring
rain” meant the children were more or less housebound: “You should hear me
trying to tell stories in Portuguese!”

Winding down her letter, Bishop apologized for its poor
quality, “but I think you owe me one.” Her brief epistle was meant to carry the
“small present” (the usual money, with an echo of her previous claim that it
would have been bigger “if I weren’t so broke after my N.Y. trip”).

Suddenly realizing that she had forgotten an important
update, she added, “I love having the pictures.” The grandchildren were
intrigued by them, too. They “think they’re my mother and father, and asked all
about them.” When Helena
asked, “What did they die of?” Bishop directed her, “go and ask your
Grandmother … so she went and asked Lota.”

One thing that becomes clear in this letter is that Grace
was back in the US, in Florida. In Hollywood, FL,
to be exact, where Hazel Bulmer Snow lived. Hazel was Arthur and Mabel Bulmer’s
daughter, so another of Grace’s nieces.

Hazel had been living in Florida for some time. Mabel, a widow of
five years, was spending the winter with her daughter. Grace joined them.
Clearly, Grace had been in touch about this recent development (it was not
“news” to Bishop), so perhaps it was Bishop who really owed a letter. Bishop
wrote, “I’ll try to get a card for Aunt Mabel in Petrópolis today.” And
concluded this brief, jumbled letter with a plea: “I am very eager to hear from
you and learn what you’re doing, if you’ve got a job, etc., and how you’re
liking it there.”

While not as far south as Key West,
Hollywood was in southern Florida. Having been in that neck of the
woods relatively recently, it is clear Bishop was pleased that Grace was
experiencing something of the “state with the prettiest name.” Scribbled in
Bishop’s gnomic holograph, at the bottom of the page, was her acknowledgement
that Grace would find it “strange,” having her “1st Christmas in the tropics!
They put off fire-works — or used to.”

Sunday, November 20, 2016

Bishop’s 16 September 1957 letter to Grace was written not
long before she and Lota were due to return to Brazil. It was a busy time. Bishop
had just returned from Key West, where she had
gone to see Marjorie Stevens: “I felt I couldn’t leave the U.S.A. without
seeing Marjorie.” With Lota occupied with a Brazilian friend visiting for a few
weeks, Bishop had gone off to reconnect with Majorie after nearly a decade.
Grace knew Marjorie, so Bishop knew Grace would be interested in how she was
doing. Marjorie was also interested to know about Grace. “She asked all about
you,” Bishop wrote.

(Marjorie Stevens and Pauline Hemingway in Key West, 1940s)

Marjorie was living in a “new little house” and was keen to
show it to Bishop. Though it was “fearfully hot in K.W.,” Bishop seemed to have
a pleasant time, and saw several other “old friends.” The big topic was “Blue
Points,” that is, Siamese cats, which Marjorie was taking care of for a friend:
“pale gray with silver markings and blue eyes, beautiful animals.” Being a died-in-the-fur
cat person, Bishop “let them sleep with me,” in spite of the heat. The more
challenging part of their nature was they “talk a great deal!”

Bishop had welcomed this side-trip because Lota (and the
visiting Brazilian friend) was “shopping like crazy,” so the apartment was in a
state of upheaval with all the packages and packing.

Upon returning to New
York, which was “hotter than ever — an unusual heat
wave for September,” Bishop found “a new batch of proof waiting,” which
had to be gone through before they left. You can see what came next: “This,
plus the earlier sailing date, plus the fact that I’m completely BROKE, of
course — means that I don’t see how I can possibly get to N.S.” I suspect Grace
was not surprised, even if she was disappointed. Bishop always “hop[ed] against
hope” to get to Nova Scotia on the rare
occasions she was in the U.S.
in the 1950s and 1960s. But it never happened.

To further explain her financial constraints, Bishop noted,
“I thought I was getting a refund on my income tax that would have paid
for the ticket.” Her accountant, however, had conscientiously applied the
refund “on next year’s instead.” Bishop was never good with business matters.
Perhaps the accountant knew this weakness and was trying to help Bishop, in
spite of herself. After months in the US, Bishop declared, “I’m going off
with lots of unpaid bills and unseen friends.” Still, her “I am so terribly
sorry, really,” sounded genuine. She added, “If it’s any consolation, Aunt F tells
me my Worcester
relatives are mad at not seeing me again!” Poor Aunt Florence “got Lota on the
telephone while I was away — called her “LOLA” and told her how smart I am, but
how it was only natural because the Bishops are all so smart!” When Bishop returned,
she called her elderly paternal aunt, who told her that she wanted “some pink
pajamas, ‘pretty ones dearie’ (as if left to my own devices I’d buy ugly ones).”
There might have been good reasons why Bishop avoided her Worcester relatives.

Amusingly, Florence
declared (in all seriousness) to Bishop that Grace was “getting married.”
Bishop knew, of course, that this was not true, but couldn’t resist: “Is this
true, and if so I wonder who is the lucky man?” Though she knew perfectly well
it was “Aunt F’s fancies.” To extend the joke a bit more, Bishop noted, “I
think it is a fine idea but I’m surprised you’d confide in Aunt Florence
first!” One can see the two of them laughing heartily over this fancy.

Bishop was clearly pressed for time with completing the book
work, shopping, final visits, and other appointments. This letter has a tone
of: there are not enough hours in the day; and a regret of letting go of
something she really wanted to do.

Bishop concluded this letter with an odd story, about an appointment
with the dentist (she had been preoccupied about her teeth in Brazil, needing to get to the dentist; so
getting to one in the US
was a priority). To Grace she said, “I spent the morning at the dentist’s and
read the Sept. [sic: August] National
Geographic — a very silly piece about the Bay of Fundy.”
This piece, “Giant Tides of Fundy,” was written by Paul Zahl. She told her
aunt, “I think I’ll buy it just for the photographs — some of them made me feel
homesick.”

In 1918 Bishop was in another dentist’s office reading a National Georgraphic. Here, nearly 40
years later, she was again registering the contents of one of the most
ubiquitous magazines found in such waiting rooms. One wonders if it might not
have triggered the old memory, though it took nearly another decade before she
began to write “In the Waiting Room.” Zahl’s piece is actually not “silly” but
a passionate and lively account of the environment of the Bay
of Fundy. There are dozens of photographs, and no wonder some of
them made her homesick. She concluded her letter, “I do wish I could get there
now, to see the colours of the maple trees. With much love, and I’ll try to
write sooner.”

Tuesday, November 15, 2016

In these troubling times, positive creativity is vital. We
need more music, more poetry, more painting, dance, drama. Suzie LeBlanc’s “APocket of Time” concert, a tribute to Elizabeth Bishop, on Sunday evening, 13
November, at the Maritime Conservatory of Performing Arts in Halifax, N.S.,
embodied the kind of collaborative creativity that brings out the best in and
inspires all of us. Presented by Cecilia Concert Series, it gave all those who
attended a great lift.

With Blue Engine String Quartet and pianist RobertKortgaard, Suzie sang several settings of Bishop poems, which had been composed
for her for the Elizabeth Bishop Centenary in 2011: a setting of “Sunday 4
A.M.,” by John Plant (whose birthday it was that day – imagine, having Suzie
LeBlanc sing you “Happy Birthday” accompanied by a string quartet!); and “A
Short Slow Life,” by Emily Doolittle (who had arranged an orchestral score for
this superb string quartet).

Two new settings of Bishop poems were also performed. The
most recent, “Paris
7 A.M.,” by British composer Ivan Moody, was a world premiere performance. Halifax pianist and
composer Peter Togni recently set “Lullaby for a Cat,” for Suzie and she closed
the show with this tender song. The concert opened with Blue Engine performing
Alasdair MacLean’s “The Silken Water is Weaving and Weaving,” inspired by this
line from Bishop’s poem “Cape Breton.”

Music and songs by Brazilian composer Heitor Villa Lobos and
Robert Schumann rounded out this program which explored time and dream and the
moon.

I had the privilege of presenting a little pre-concert talk,
which I think entertained those kind souls who arrived early. Here I am in full
flight – not singing! – but declaring Bishop’s life-long love of music.

(Photo by Binnie Brennan)

I want to thank Cecilia Concert series for their warm
welcome and for deep commitment to music, and all those who attended. It was a kind of “old home night” for me, seeing friends I had not seen in a long
time, as I do not live in Halifax
any longer. Including my friend, the poet and Open Heart Farming editor Mary Ellen Sullivan. To be part of this kind of music-making is a tremendously uplifting honour. Thanks to Binnie
Brennan for taking these photos.

Saturday, November 12, 2016

Bishop’s letter of 10 January 1957 appears to have been the
last she wrote to Grace until September (at least none in the interim have
survived). The reason for this gap was the trip Bishop mentioned she and Lota
were going to take to the United
States. As Brett Millier records, this trip
was primarily to shepherd the translation of Mina Vida de Menia (The Diary
of ‘Helena Morley’) through publication with Farrar, Straus and Cudahy. (p. 289)

Perhaps Grace wrote a letter to Bishop before they left for
the US,
on Bishop’s urging. She hoped she would hear from her aunt: “maybe I’ll get
more [letters] if you keep working nights.” And closed by saying she hoped to
see her “in 1957.”

They arrived in New
York on 31 March. The visit lasted six months and
included side trips to Maine, Massachusetts and Florida.
It was a whirlwind of reconnecting with many friends, of onerous work with the
publisher on page proofs, and witnessing the changes that had happened in America
since she left in 1951. Grace was nursing in New England and as a result she
and Bishop managed to catch what Bishop called a “glimpse” of each other, their
first direct meeting in a decade. During this stretch, however, it seems that Grace
returned to Nova Scotia
(indeed, Grace seemed to be far more nomadic than Bishop in the 1950s). It is
evident from Bishop’s next letter, however, that Grace continued to write to her
niece during this stretch of time.

Bishop’s next extant letter to Grace is dated 16 September
1957, and was written in New York
at the apartment she and Lota rented at 115 East 67th Street. Bishop had recently
returned from a week-long stay with Marjorie Stevens in Florida. She told Grace, “I took your letter
down to Key West
with me and then never did get a chance to answer it, and while I was away your
postcard came.” At some point, either during their brief visit or in subsequent
correspondence, Grace offered her niece a precious gift: two family portraits,
one of Bishop’s mother, Gertrude Bulmer Bishop, and one of her uncle, Arthur
Bridges Bulmer, painted sometime in the late 1880s, one in Grace’s possession
and the other in Mabel Bulmer’s (Arthur’s wife) possession.

(Gertrude Bulmer, circa late 1880s. Painter unknown.)

Bishop opens her letter unequivocally, “I’d love to
have that portrait of my mother — I’ve wanted it, as you know, for years.” Much
of their discussion about this subject related to the logistics of getting the
paintings to Bishop: how much the postage would be, how much to insure them for,
and what the customs duty might be. Bishop stated strongly that she would be
willing to pay whatever the cost, and added, “Thank Aunt Mabel for me. It seems
a shame to break the pair … and tell her I do appreciate it.”

(Arthur Bridges Bulmer, circa late 1880s. Painter unknown.)

These portraits reached Bishop before she and Lota left the US in early
October (“Our freighter is now sailing on … the 8th.” As Millier writes, they
accompanied “the seven trunks, four wooden boxes, four large crates, three
barrels, and twenty-six pieces of luggage that Elizabeth and Lota” took back to
Brazil.
(p. 293) These portraits triggered one of Bishop’s most detailed word portraits
of a member of her maternal family, her memoir “Memories of Uncle Neddy.” She
re-framed the paintings and hung them in the house at Samambaia. She brought
them back when she left Brazil
in the late 1960s.

During their brief meeting, Grace gave Bishop another gift:
“I like that little photograph you gave me so much.” Since both knew the
content of the photo, it of course did not need to be described (how
frustrating!). Lota liked it, too, because Bishop notes that she “found a very
pretty oval gold frame for it — well, brass with some gold wash, but it looks
very nice!”

These family mementos meant a great deal to Bishop. The
portraits would have hung initially in her grandparents’ home, though by the
time she came along, the one of Arthur perhaps had already migrated across the
road to her uncle’s house. The memoir she wrote focused on her uncle because
she had already written and published “In the Village,” a powerful word
portrait of her mother. “Memories of Uncle Neddy” is full to the brim of vivid
memories and details of this man and his family, of the village itself.

What happened to
these portraits?

When Bishop died in 1979, Alice Methfessel inherited the
bulk of Bishop’s estate, including the portraits, which she kept for the rest
of her life. When Alice died in 2009, her
partner Angela Leap inherited Alice’s
estate, including the Bishop materials she retained (part of which was a filing
cabinet with a cache of letters, some of Bishop’s own paintings, a George W.
Hutchinson painting, which triggered “Poem,” and the portraits). Leap sold the
contents of the filing cabinet to Vassar
College. She commissioned
rare book dealer James Jaffe to help her sell all the artwork. I spent well
over a year trying to raise awareness and funds to repatriate the portraits and
the “Poem” painting. Regretfully, I failed.

Bishop’s letter of 10 January 1957 appears to have been the
last she wrote to Grace until September (at least none in the interim have
survived). The reason for this gap was the trip Bishop mentioned she and Lota
were going to take to the United
States. As Brett Millier records, this trip
was primarily to shepherd the translation of Mina Vida de Menia (The Diary
of ‘Helena Morley’) through publication with Farrar, Straus and Cudahy. (p. 289)

Perhaps Grace wrote a letter to Bishop before they left for
the US,
on Bishop’s urging. She hoped she would hear from her aunt: “maybe I’ll get
more [letters] if you keep working nights.” And closed by saying she hoped to
see her “in 1957.”

They arrived in New
York on 31 March. The visit lasted six months and
included side trips to Maine, Massachusetts and Florida.
It was a whirlwind of reconnecting with many friends, of onerous work with the
publisher on page proofs, and witnessing the changes that had happened in America
since she left in 1951. Grace was nursing in New England and as a result she
and Bishop managed to catch what Bishop called a “glimpse” of each other, their
first direct meeting in a decade. During this stretch, however, it seems that Grace
returned to Nova Scotia
(indeed, Grace seemed to be far more nomadic than Bishop in the 1950s). It is
evident from Bishop’s next letter, however, that Grace continued to write to her
niece during this stretch of time.

Bishop’s next extant letter to Grace is dated 16 September
1957, and was written in New York
at the apartment she and Lota rented at 115 East 67th Street. Bishop had recently
returned from a week-long stay with Marjorie Stevens in Florida. She told Grace, “I took your letter
down to Key West
with me and then never did get a chance to answer it, and while I was away your
postcard came.” At some point, either during their brief visit or in subsequent
correspondence, Grace offered her niece a precious gift: two family portraits,
one of Bishop’s mother, Gertrude Bulmer Bishop, and one of her uncle, Arthur
Bridges Bulmer, painted sometime in the late 1880s, one in Grace’s possession
and the other in Mabel Bulmer’s (Arthur’s wife) possession.

(Gertrude Bulmer, circa late 1880s. Painter unknown.)

Bishop opens her letter unequivocally, “I’d love to
have that portrait of my mother — I’ve wanted it, as you know, for years.” Much
of their discussion about this subject related to the logistics of getting the
paintings to Bishop: how much the postage would be, how much to insure them for,
and what the customs duty might be. Bishop stated strongly that she would be
willing to pay whatever the cost, and added, “Thank Aunt Mabel for me. It seems
a shame to break the pair … and tell her I do appreciate it.”

(Arthur Bridges Bulmer, circa late 1880s. Painter unknown.)

These portraits reached Bishop before she and Lota left the US in early
October (“Our freighter is now sailing on … the 8th.” As Millier writes, they
accompanied “the seven trunks, four wooden boxes, four large crates, three
barrels, and twenty-six pieces of luggage that Elizabeth and Lota” took back to
Brazil.
(p. 293) These portraits triggered one of Bishop’s most detailed word portraits
of a member of her maternal family, her memoir “Memories of Uncle Neddy.” She
re-framed the paintings and hung them in the house at Samambaia. She brought
them back when she left Brazil
in the late 1960s.

During their brief meeting, Grace gave Bishop another gift:
“I like that little photograph you gave me so much.” Since both knew the
content of the photo, it of course did not need to be described (how
frustrating!). Lota liked it, too, because Bishop notes that she “found a very
pretty oval gold frame for it — well, brass with some gold wash, but it looks
very nice!”

These family mementos meant a great deal to Bishop. The
portraits would have hung initially in her grandparents’ home, though by the
time she came along, the one of Arthur perhaps had already migrated across the
road to her uncle’s house. The memoir she wrote focused on her uncle because
she had already written and published “In the Village,” a powerful word
portrait of her mother. “Memories of Uncle Neddy” is full to the brim of vivid
memories and details of this man and his family, of the village itself.

What happened to
these portraits?

When Bishop died in 1979, Alice Methfessel inherited the
bulk of Bishop’s estate, including the portraits, which she kept for the rest
of her life. When Alice died in 2009, her
partner Angela Leap inherited Alice’s
estate, including the Bishop materials she retained (part of which was a filing
cabinet with a cache of letters, some of Bishop’s own paintings, a George W.
Hutchinson painting, which triggered “Poem,” and the portraits). Leap sold the
contents of the filing cabinet to Vassar
College. She commissioned
rare book dealer James Jaffe to help her sell all the artwork. I spent well
over a year trying to raise awareness and funds to repatriate the portraits and
the “Poem” painting. Regretfully, I failed.

Saturday, November 5, 2016

On Sunday evening, 13 November 2016, at 7:00 p.m., at the Maritime Conservatory of Performing Arts, in Halifax,
N.S., soprano Suzie LeBlanc,
Honorary Patron of the EBSNS, will present a concert in tribute to Elizabeth
Bishop, “A Pocket of Time.” She will perform some of the settings of Bishop
poems that she commissioned for the Elizabeth Bishop Centenary in 2011 and
premiere a new one. She will be joined by the Blue Engine String Quartet and
pianist Robert Kortgaard. This concert is presented by Cecilia Concerts. You can find out more about this concert by clicking here.

I am pleased to say that I will give a short pre-concert
talk, focused on Elizabeth Bishop’s love of music.

5 September 2017: Nulla dies sine linea

[Today, near the beginning of a new month traditionally associated with the first day of school we begin a new feature to replace the long-running "Today in Bishop." Each day we hope to post a brief reflection on a line from Bishop's poetry, beginning with the title of the first poem in her first book, North & South. We would be happy to have contributions from the Patronage-at-Large, should anyone be so inclined.]

"The Map"

Not simply "Map": abstract, generalized, a concept more than an object, perhaps not even a noun at all, but an imperative, an imperious directive; nor yet "A Map": token of a type, a random example run across by chance, perhaps, on the dusty dark-fumed oak table in the centre of Marks & Co. once-upon-a-time during a long-anticipated visit to 84, Charing Cross Road just prior to its burial beneath a modernist glass tower, where its once-upon-a-place is now marked by a memorial plaque; no, no, no — "The Map" — unique, archetypal, redolent of all that makes it one-and-only, but also a congeries of interwoven metonymies as patterned and abundant as the sixth of the "La Dame à la licorne" Flemish tapestries ("À mon seul désir") or as Vermeer's "De Soldaat en het Lachende Meisje"— or, yet again, as the map in EB's "Primer Class."

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John Barnstead

I retired in 2014 after forty years of teaching Russian language and literature. I'm a past president of the Elizabeth Bishop Society of Nova Scotia.

Sandra Barry

I am a poet, independent scholar, freelance editor, and secretary of the Elizabeth Bishop Society of Nova Scotia.

Suzie LeBlanc

I am a professional singer who recently became a great admirer of Elizabeth Bishop's writing. I am also fond of walking and nature and I became involved with the Elizabeth Bishop Centenary because I wanted to have her poems set to music so that I could sing them.